


chasing the feeling of being held

by bobtheacorn



Series: And Never Again Feel Weak [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Biting, Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pry Ace!Keith from My Cold Hands You Cowards, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobtheacorn/pseuds/bobtheacorn
Summary: Lance can tell he's in the right ballpark by the way Keith's face heats up and his mouth presses together, his eyes wide and directed at Lance's knees rather than his face, or his neck. Maybe he didn't do it on purpose. But he still did it. Keith is only half Galra, maybe less. It's funny that his base instincts and more alien traits are showing through in early adulthood, just when he's starting to feel balanced in his mind and body, and Lance can't help teasing him about it."Is this your way of proposing to me? Saying you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Because it's kinda kinky, mullet."//Lance and Keith deal with a new development in their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about 6 months to 1 year after part four: everything else, coalescing
> 
> Heyyyy ho so I am a liar who lies. The first 4k of this should look familiar to some because I posted it solo back in September! I thought I wasn't going to use it, but lots of people were very supportive and wanted to see what happens next, and as the story got bigger I definitely wanted to elaborate and flesh more of it out, since the Galra stuff does come up a lot later on.
> 
> So here we are with an additional 12k!!
> 
> I wasn't sure how to post this considering I jumped the gun with it. I didn't want to repost it and lose the comments that I had, and I didn't want to add the rest as a second chapter and deviate from the way the others in the series are posted (I'm particular. Sry.) So I decided to mass edit the original fic, change the publication date, and bump it with a faux chapter for anyone who's subscribed! I'm not entirely sure if it works like that! Hopefully it's not too confusing for anyone…!
> 
> Surprise surprise, things get ~spicy~ right at the end again. (Slightly more spicy than last time!) Opt out after _the bruise fades._ ♡

Trying to find a concealer that actually works with his skin tone is next to impossible in space. Sure, Lance manages to find the perfect blend of herbs and minerals or whatever to make absolutely GREAT facial scrubs and moisturizers and soaps, but a concealer that actually blends without making him break out in some horrible, alien rash?  _ The  _ most aggravating thing Lance has experienced since being whisked away from planet Earth, and it's been almost  _ five years. _ He frowns at the mirror as he leans against the bathroom sink, turning his head, tipping his chin up to expose the line of his throat.

Normally, he doesn't mind a couple of hickies, but Keith doesn't usually mark up his neck like this. His stomach, hips, and thighs get most of Keith's attention, and even then Keith is always so gentle with him that the bloom of small, red bruises aren't very prominent and don't linger very long.

Keith's never bitten him hard before.

Lance is beginning to think he shouldn't have asked him to, because the bruise on his neck, at the juncture of his shoulder, is… It's impressive, to say the least. The longer Lance looks at it, the more he also begins to think he needs to put a bandage on it and not bother with concealer at all.

He can see the deep indents that Keith's teeth left behind, and it actually looks like his canines might have broken the skin. The surrounding area is puffy, several shades of purple and blue bleeding into one another. Lance gives in and pokes the edge of the bruise, wincing. He moves his fingers to feel at the bite marks and can barely even stand to touch it, his nerves all tender and aching at the slightest amount of pressure. Dried bits of bright red flake away when he comes to the two perfectly spaced indents, and the sharp pain is enough to make Lance suck in a breath.

He drops his hand, rubbing his fingers together.

Definitely broke the skin...

He and Keith are just getting to that point in their relationship where they're starting to get more exploratory with their sexual endeavors. Lance has suspected for a while that he might enjoy being pinned down as long as he got cuddled afterward - and Keith did not disappoint. He was hesitant about being more forceful at first, but once Lance starting responding positively and encouraging him to be a little rougher, he relaxed about it and seemed more than happy to give Lance what he wanted. This ugly bruise, and the resulting (literal) headache, is really putting a damper on the good time they had last night, and Lance frowns at it.

By now, he's pulled himself up onto the bathroom counter to get as close to the mirror and under the light as possible, sitting on his knees.

This is when Keith walks in.

He freezes in the doorway, makes an abrupt backward movement that immediately draws Lance's attention away from his own reflection. Keith is standing stock still when Lance looks over at him, but Lance can't shake the feeling that he was about to bolt. His shoulders are tense and his head is down, eyes darting nervously around the floor without settling.

He's been like this all morning.

He won't even look at Lance.

Lance chews his bottom lip for a second, then prompts, "Hey. Did you need something?"

Keith lifts his head slightly, bangs still fallen in his face, and cuts his eyes to the side. Lance is watching him openly from his place on the countertop, so he sees the way Keith glances toward him and then quickly away, and something unhappy gets stirred up in Lance's chest. He knows Keith is just feeling guilty. He doesn't know how many times he can say that it's fine.

"I was -" Keith stops abruptly. His voice must be too loud to him, because he lowers it before he goes on, "Hunk said you hadn't been to breakfast yet… I just wanted to check on you."

"I didn't realize I was taking so long," Lance admits with some surprise, glancing down at himself.

He's still in his bathrobe. He had meant to take a shower, and he got distracted. Lance turns back to the mirror, his brow creasing as his hand lifts back to his neck. He looks at Keith again, tries to smile and make light of this whole awkward situation when he points to the grizzly bite mark coloring his neck and says, "Still trying to figure out how you did this, to be honest."

"I'm sorry," Keith's voice is tight. He seems to shrink.

"Keith, I said it was okay," Lance says earnestly, "I asked you to bite me."

"Not like that."

Okay that's… fair. And really it had been more of a suggestion than a request. But Lance hadn't really registered the bite until afterwards. His orgasm had been  _ that _ good, the deep pain bleeding seamlessly into the pleasure quaking through his body, a shock that had lit him up from the inside. If anything, it had added to the feeling. It's pretty embarrassing, actually. Lance presses the back of his hand against his heated face, thinking about how gently Keith had held onto him afterwards.

Keith had rubbed his hands down Lance's thighs, up his back, until he'd stopped trembling. Keith had kissed and lapped at his neck until the sting of the fresh bite had faded and Lance was boneless in his arms. Lance remembers hugging Keith's shoulders and nuzzling his face into Keith's sweaty hair and murmuring  _ I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Keith  _ until he fell asleep; remembers feeling so content and so safe and so loved.

_ Oh jeez, _ Lance thinks. He drags his hands down his face. A painful throbbing in his neck at the motion diverts his attention to a more appropriate place, and Lance shifts around on the counter, throwing his legs over the side and sitting on the edge.

"Come over here," he says to Keith.

Keith hesitates, still standing in the middle of the doorway, and Lance is worried for one horrible moment that Keith will refuse. He doesn't, but the steps he takes toward Lance are careful. He's still avoiding eye contact, and he stays a single step back from the counter. Lance points to the cabinet in the corner that he can't reach from here, says, "Grab the first aid kit for me."

Keith hesitates again, his eyes widening. His gaze flicks up, grazing Lance's neck without lingering long enough to actually see how bad it is. He swallows hard and then goes to open the cabinet, pulling down the small white and blue box and bringing it to where Lance is still sitting on the counter by the sink. Lance takes the box and pops it open, picking out the disinfectant pads, a numbing solution, and a bandage big enough to cover the bruise.

Lance hands the packet of disinfectant pads to Keith, who is hovering just outside his reach. Keith's shoulders flinch, a small jump of surprise, his brow creasing as he stares down at the packet and processes Lance's unspoken request. After a few seconds, he takes it with a trembling hand, stepping closer to the counter and closer to Lance with his head down, his eyes heavily lidded and dark and wet, like this is a punishment he thinks he deserves. His fingers are shaking so much he can't even tear the packet open.

Lance takes pity on him, his heart tearing in two much easier than the fiber plastic. He tries to pull it out of Keith's hands, but Keith won't let go of it, his grip suddenly fierce. He's staring down at it and can't seem to drag his eyes up.

Lance waits to see how long it will take, but eventually says, gently, "Keith. I'm not upset."

Keith pulls in a shuddering breath, his hands stilling.

"I'm….  _ I'm _ upset," he says, exhaling.

"I know. Tell me why," Lance says. Unable to stop himself, he reaches out to clasp Keith's hands between both of his. "Keith, it's not going to sound stupid."

"I don't - I don't know… I didn't…." Lance doesn't interrupt, lets Keith gather his thoughts and let them out at his own pace, fumbling, under his breath, "I don't know why I bit you like that. I felt… I felt… kind of different. I wanted to - I wanted - " Keith swallows, the tips of his ears turning red, the color high in his cheekbones. "I wanted to bite you but not… that hard. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," Lance says. He tightens his grip when Keith tenses. "Keith, you  _ didn't  _ hurt me. It didn't hurt. I barely felt it. If anything it - " It's Lance's turn to blush, but he blurts it out anyway, "It felt good. Like  _ really _ good. I mean. It hurts  _ now. _ My head is killing me. But when you bit me it - it didn't hurt. I wasn't scared or anything. I didn't think you had hurt me. I didn't even know how bad it was until I woke up and my neck was all sore, but like - I'm sore  _ everywhere. _ But! No, like! A good sore! Y'know? I mean - you didn't - Keith, you didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to do," Lance finishes in a rush, his heart racing, words drawing several different responses out of Keith.

He flinches in places, he tries to pull back. Lance keeps him desperately anchored by the hands, and realizes he's shaking now, too.

He didn't mean for this to be a big thing.

Maybe they should have talked about it a little more...

"Keith, I would have told you to stop if you were hurting me, I would have told you to stop if I didn't like it. Did I…." Fear drops like a stone into the pit of Lance's stomach and sends a cold feeling washing over him. "Keith….. did I make you do something that you didn't want to do? Last night? I mean, I - I know you were kinda hesitant about…. about holding me down and stuff, but I thought - "

Keith's head snaps up - finally, that's the thing that does it. Lance's choked and fearful voice, his hands trembling as he lets go of Keith's, realizing that he might have done something very wrong. He might have pushed Keith into something that he hadn't wanted to do, or wasn't ready to do. That's a thing he's always been worried about, because he knows Keith only enjoys sex because  _ Lance _ enjoys sex; he knows Keith doesn't think about it or want it the same way that he does.

But he doesn't understand.

Keith is quiet in all the ways Lance is loud.

Lance is vocal and physical and open with his affection. He loves Keith with everything that he has, in every way that he can, and sex is just another aspect of that for him. It's another way to show Keith how much he loves him and how happy he is, and Lance doesn't understand how something that felt  _ so good _ before can suddenly make him feel  _ so bad _ right now.

Was he the only one that felt like that? Was he the only one that felt safe and loved?

Lance's arms close around himself, automatically chasing the feeling of being held the way he wants - the way he  _ needs _ \- and he doesn't realize how close to tears he is until Keith is grabbing him firmly, fingers closing over the back of Lance's hands.

"Oh, Lance, no. No, that's not - that's not why I'm upset! I don't always want to have sex when you do, but if I don't, I know I can say no and you don't get mad at me. But I mean, I was… I was kinda nervous. About being rough with you. But you told me - you said it felt good, and I know you would have told me not to do it if you didn't like it, I just - I feel like I… I snapped. At some point. I bit you so hard, Lance. I feel like I lost control when I shouldn't have. I just didn't want to hurt you. If I really hadn't been comfortable with all the rest, I would have said something. I - "

Keith stops himself suddenly, and Lance has caught his heaving breath to listen.

"You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Lance," Keith says, "I just felt like - like I'm the one that took it too far. I don't know what came over me."

"Okay," Lance says, voice shaking, face wet, "You didn't hurt me."

"Okay," Keith agrees.

Some of the panic eases out of Keith's expression as he looks at Lance, finally allowing the words to sink in through that thick head of his, and Lance feels his own anxiety quiet some. Keith reaches up, brushing the back of his fingers over Lance's cheek to wipe away the few tears drying there.

He feels kind of silly for crying over it, but god he doesn't want to hurt Keith, either.

It's easier to breathe by the time Keith takes his hand away. He drops it to hover just over the edge of the bruise, his eyes following the movement, his eyebrows knitting together. Lance sits still and lets him look at it. He seems like he's trying to work out how he feels about it. Keith's fingers brush over the tender welts in the center and Lance flinches at the unexpected contact. He puts his hand on Keith's arm, grounding him there in case Keith gets any stupid ideas about pulling away.

But Keith surprises him by doing the opposite.

He presses down with two fingers, drags them over the swell of the bruise, following the slope of Lance's shoulder, watching the play of dark colors shift under the pressure and bloom anew over Lance's skin. Lance's shoulder jerks, and he pushes his lips together to suppress a noise. It comes out as a confused hum, because it hurts with Keith pressing on it, sends an ache deep into his neck and shoulder, his headache pounding away - but it throbs inside his chest, too, and drops lower into his stomach, past his naval, stirring up a lingering warmth.

_ Okay, _ Lance thinks, a bit hysterical as he breathes in through his nose. He didn't think he'd be as into that as he apparently is. He doesn't want to freak Keith out or anything, so he decides to keep that mental note to himself. It's just that, he is not good at hiding things from Keith anymore, and Keith is looking right at him, watching his face.

"You okay?" he asks, his fingers dropping away because Lance pushes at his wrist.

"Yeah. Don't- poke it like that."

"Sorry," Keith says, smirking. Lance's cheeks heat up and he deliberately turns his face away. "Can I try something real quick?"

"Sure," Lance says, surprising them both with the fast response. He tries to cover it up, stammering a weak excuse, "But, um - breakfast? And I still need to take a shower…."

"I'm not going to start getting frisky with you." Lance snorts at the stupid phrasing, but Keith is smiling. "I just…. I wanted to try something."

"Alright," Lance says.

Keith grabs the back of Lance's thighs and pulls him closer to the edge of the counter, easing his legs further apart so Keith can fit snugly in between them. Lance is reminded yet again that he's only wearing this thin bathrobe, tied loosely closed, when Keith slips his hand inside the collar and pushes it open further, exposing more of his shoulder. He puffs out a laugh when Keith pulls him into a close hug, next, when he presses the side of his face against Lance's neck.

"I thought you weren't getting frisky with me," Lance says, winding his arms around Keith's shoulders.

"Well. Not on purpose."

"I'm not complaining, Keith," Lance laughs.

There's a small laugh from Keith in answer, and Lance relaxes even more. Keith kisses his neck, just a slight brush of his lips below Lance's ear, along the line of his throat, moving down slowly until he gets close to the bite mark at the curve of Lance's shoulder. Lance's heart is beating with anticipation when Keith pauses there, and then Keith fits his open mouth over the perfect matching mark, warm and wet. Lance jerks involuntarily, pulling up handfuls of Keith's shirt and a sharp little gasp as the bruise throbs.

It hurts, but something familiar, something liquid and warm, pools between Lance's legs, makes his knees hug Keith's hips a little tighter and a breathless noise escape his lips. As if gripped with some instinct, Keith licks at the bruise the same way he did last night, pressing gently with his tongue and soothing over it. He doesn't suck on it, raising the heat, doesn't graze the tender skin with his teeth, and after a few seconds Lance shivers, relaxing entirely. He drops his head to one side, resting it against his arm on Keith's shoulder, to give Keith better access.

Okay. It doesn't hurt so much when he does that. It stings a bit, Keith's warm tongue easing over the small wounds his teeth left behind with infinite care, but it's… weirdly comforting.

Like  _ weirdly comforting. _

Keith's hands smooth up and down Lance's back, and Lance closes his eyes again.

Now that Lance is thinking about it, the biting thing is probably a Galra thing. He's noticed some physical changes in Keith over the past year or two, as if he's finally growing into his alien genetics. The teeth, first of all. His canines are sharper (exhibit a: Lance's neck). And Keith is… bigger. Broader. Taller. His hair feels thicker, though it's just as soft and unruly as ever, and Lance swears the black is lighter near the roots, has an almost purple sheen in certain light. Lance has noticed an upsurge in his strength and stamina, as if those weren't already off-the-charts unfair before.

And his appetite. He eats almost constantly. Maybe that's partly because they're getting served legitimate food three times a day now, instead of just food goo whenever they need sustenance.

Sometimes during training or a high-stress mission, there's a yellow tint in his eyes that lingers. He's done that a couple of times during sex before, too - scary, Lance has to admit, but definitely a thrill. This time, Keith said he felt like he "snapped". Maybe playing a more dominant role last night triggered something neither of them were anticipating.

Lance can't bring himself to see it as a bad thing.

He loves Keith no matter what.

So he tells him that, the soft, "I love you," muffled in the collar of Keith's shirt.

Keith pauses, as if caught doing something he thinks he shouldn't be doing. He passes his tongue over the bruise one more time, presses his lips against it and stills his hands. Even the way he smells is different. Not in a bad way, and Lance can't pin down what, specifically, is different about it, but it's…better, he guesses. Keith's hair is tickling his nose, his scent stronger than ever from his morning exercise.

"You smell good, babe," Lance says, feeling oddly dazed from the attention - or maybe it's the way Keith smells, or maybe it's both. He's not complaining. Even his headache has eased up.

"I don't stink?" Keith sounds surprised, because that's normally what he hears when he forgets to shower after training. Lance usually wrinkles his nose and pushes him away, he doesn't snuggle closer. Keith's hand runs up the curve of Lance's back, following his spine, a comforting weight. He glances down at the bruise. "Does that… feel better?"

"Yeah?"

"Does it?"

"Yeah," Lance says, more sure the second time around, if only because Keith sounds like he doesn't believe it. He picks his head up from Keith's shoulder, sitting back enough that they can look at each other. His eyes are heavy. He hasn't even been awake that long, and he's tired? So weird. "You want to carry me back to bed and cuddle a while?"

Keith looks at him, surprised, and then he actually laughs - a full, throaty laugh that sharpens Lance's awareness a bit and has him grinning back, lifting a hand to rub his eyes.

"I think you've had enough," Keith says once he calms down. He hasn't moved away, his hands resting on Lance's thighs, expression thoughtful as he stares at Lance's throat. "I don't know what I did to you. Maybe we should go ask Coran or something, he knows more about this stuff than we do."

"What stuff?" Lance asks, just to be sure they're on the same page.

"Galra stuff?" Keith sounds uncertain, and Lance realizes he's just now piecing everything together.

He's been pretty bewildered by the small things Lance has already taken notice of or pointed out, passing them off as random flukes, as if afraid of the reality. This has been months and months in the making, and all of that has finally culminated here, into a bright blue bruise coloring Lance's neck, and it's no longer possible for Keith to deny that something is happening.

"You don't want to talk to one of your buddies with the Blades, instead? They might be able to give you an easier answer than Coran," Lance points out, partly to remind Keith that he  _ does _ have friends who are Galra.

Keith's face heats up.

"Not about this," he mutters.

There are probably a couple of things to unpack there. Keith doesn't like talking about sex, except with Lance, in private. Lance respects that. It's no surprise he wouldn't feel comfortable approaching another Galra with this topic - especially since he still feels like he doesn't quite fit in with them. He probably doesn't want to ask questions that might sound stupid about his own biology and risk further social isolation.

Lance doesn't know why Keith thinks people don't like him or don't want him around. 

"You sure it doesn't hurt?" Keith asks.

It snaps Lance out of his thoughts.

"Not anymore," Lance says, "Which is pretty weird. You kind of broke the skin."

"I noticed. Believe me." Keith winces, but doesn't apologize again. He seems to consider something for a moment, his gaze dropping to Lance's lap, where he's fiddling with the tail of the red and gold fabric tied around Lance's waist. "I don't… want you to cover it up."

"What?"

Keith's face reddens with embarrassment, and his eyes dart off to the side, but his eyebrows draw together determinedly.

"That's what the bandage was for, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I don't…. Want you to do that."

Lance lifts his hand to his neck, effectively covering the mark, and he sees the way Keith's expression changes, though it's subtle. He doesn't like not being able to see it, Lance realizes, that weird warm feeling curling in his chest again. Keith's not usually possessive or jealous - Lance is. (It's not one of his shining qualities, alright?)

"I just didn't want the others to see it and make you feel bad about it," he explains, trying not to smile, "Also, my shirt. It's not exactly in a great spot. I didn't want anything to rub up against it and irritate it."

"Yeah, I figured. I'm not - I'm not saying don't do it, I just don't…  _ want _ you to? Is that weird…?"

"Yeah, it's kinda weird," Lance says, grinning now. He grabs onto Keith's arms when he groans, annoyed, and starts to step away. He tips to one side, playfulness dripping into his tone, "Did you bite me so everyone would know who I belong to?"

Keith yelps, "N-no!"

Lance can tell he's in the right ballpark by the way Keith's face heats up and his mouth presses together, his eyes wide and directed at Lance's knees rather than his face, or his neck. Maybe he didn't do it on purpose. But he still did it. Keith is only half Galra, maybe less. It's funny that his base instincts and more alien traits are showing through in early adulthood, just when he's starting to feel balanced in his mind and body, and Lance can't help teasing him about it.

"Is this your way of proposing to me? Saying you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Because it's kinda kinky, mullet."

Keith manages a frown at that. He takes the proposal jokes pretty seriously.

Lance's expression softens.

"You could have just asked," he adds.

"Your first guess was closer," Keith deadpans, his embarrassment lost in the spring of annoyance.

Lance laughs, latching onto his hands again.

"Are we done? Are we over this? Are we all good?"

"I guess."

"Are we?"

"Yeah, Lance."

"Good, because I  _ really _ need a shower." Lance starts packing away the first aid kit after dropping Keith's hands, and Keith steps back to give him room to slide down from the counter. "I fell asleep right after and everything feels kind of gross now. I still can't believe you didn't wake me up! You just let me sleep like that. Heartless."

"You didn't have too many complaints until this morning," Keith points out. He takes the first aid kit from Lance, leaning back on the counter. "Did you want…?"

"Nah, it's fine," Lance says, grinning as he shucks the robe altogether and showing off an array of smaller bruises and tamer bite marks that Keith makes a point of not looking at. Lance turns the shower on, stepping in under the water once it's the right temperature and sliding the door closed. "I'll wear a tank top or something, if you want to see your handiwork."

"You should just put a bandage on it. It's gonna be distracting."

"Stop sending me mixed signals!"

"I don't want you to, but you probably should."

"If it's not gonna upset you to see it, and it's not bleeding anymore, then I don't want to put anything over it. Wounds need to breathe, Keith."

"I don't think that's a thing."

"It's definitely a thing."

"We should at least have Coran look at it when you're done. And I need an exam, I guess. Or something. I still feel kind of weird. Like I'm…. humming."

"Humming?"

"Yeah?" Keith waits a beat, asks, "You said I smelled different?"

"I said you smelled  _ good. _ It was practically putting me to sleep when you were licking me just now. I think that's what you did last night, come to think of it..."

"We definitely need to talk to someone, then."

"You're really not gonna let this go?"

"No, Lance."

"Alright, we'll go after breakfast then."

"Okay," Keith says, relieved as he pulls himself up onto the counter to sit, "After breakfast."

\-----

Keith doesn't know how either of them could have possibly forgotten that they have a resident expert on Galran history and habits aboard the ship - and it's not Coran. Hunk is in the kitchen cleaning up, loading the dishwasher, humming to himself, when they wander in to retrieve their late breakfast. He spots the bite mark and the surrounding bruise on Lance's neck right away. He stops rinsing the dishes he has in the sink, lifts an eyebrow. At Lance, then at Keith, then at Lance again. He goes, "Ooooh."

Keith stiffens just inside the doorway.

Lance doesn't dignify it with a response. He strides straight to the counter where the self-warming containers are and pops one open, gushing, "Wow these biscuits look  _ really  _ good, dude!"

"Thank you, you're welcome," Hunk says, turning away from the sink entirely. He grabs a towel to dry his hands. Lance has already plucked a biscuit out and popped it in his mouth, and he only spares Hunk a glance in his search for a plate. "But we are definitely not gonna ignore the huge chunk Keith has almost taken out of your neck, Lance."

He doesn't say it in a hateful way.

It's so casual they could be discussing their laundry routine, or some other mundane thing, but the words alone are enough to have Keith's anxiety spiking anew, curling and tightening up low in his chest. It makes breathing a micron more difficult. He hovers in the doorway, suddenly unsure if he's welcome; his eyes darting from the blue-red bruise coloring Lance's dark skin to the back of Hunk's head; hands curled into loose fists, thumb working over the length of his fingers.

"He barely broke the skin," Lance says, voice a little tense as he turns around to frown at Hunk, a plate in his hands. His eyes say  _ drop it. _ "And it's  _ fine. _ It doesn't hurt."

Hunk hums in a way that's almost thoughtful.

Keith can't see his face from here, doesn't know what he's thinking.

"I just didn't think you guys were gonna get that serious so fast," Hunk says.

He glances around at Keith then.

Keith flinches involuntarily, ready to bolt for a myriad of reasons he can't fully parse. Some cocktail of emotions roaring in his chest. Shame, he thinks, guilt - and something defiant, too. He doesn't know how to feel about all this. His more Galra attributes and how they seem to be showing through the older he gets, more fiercely and more suddenly than he expected. They're small things, on the whole. But they're prominent enough to separate him cleanly from the others, enough to make him feel wrong-footed and out of place in his own familial network, in his own home.

Hunk - he doesn't look mad, though.

Doesn't look upset, or judgemental or anything.

Just mildly surprised.

Behind him, Lance is mirroring the expression with added confusion; eyebrows knitted together as he processes, then shooting up as he realizes. He points to his own neck.

"Hold the phone! You know why he did this!?"

Hunk turns again to look at Lance.

"Uhh, yeah. You don't?"

"No! I thought he was just feeling frisky!"

Keith's face reddens at that. Hunk laughs.

"When is he ever 'feeling frisky' like that, Lance?"

"None of your business!"

Keith is glad to see that Lance is also red and frowning. They don't talk about their sex life with the others - or, Keith doesn't. But he knows that Lance probably does, at least with Hunk, which is why Hunk is probably so comfortable asking in the first place. Hunk is also just nosy, though, and he doesn't get as embarrassed by this kind of stuff as Keith does.

"Easy, okay, I just meant," Hunk says, holding out his hand, "That we normally don't see the evidence so plainly out on display. I think that gives me some license to comment. Especially since, dude." He looks at Keith here, points to Lance with full-blown skepticism. "You did that without knowing what it means? Seriously? There's no way you didn't know."

Lance turns around fully from the counter, now, leaning back against it and folding his arms. He has abandoned his attempts to plate some breakfast for himself, and Keith. His posture is defensive. Keith struggles to remain where he is in the doorway, on the opposite side of the island counter, all the way across the room. He's been feeling weird all morning - charged up, ready to burst - and that tingling sensation prickles up his spine and into his ribs again, setting him on fire.

He's felt like a muted version of this for a couple of days, now. A weird heat settled low in his abdomen. In itch under his skin that he just couldn't place. Now it feels like the foil has been peeled away and all those weird sensations are amplified.

Keith doesn't know what it means.

He thought he was getting sick or something, but he doesn't…  _ feel _ sick.

"Start from the beginning, Hunk," Lance sighs, "We don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, first of all, I can't believe I've been immersing myself in Galran culture all these years and no one has bothered reading any of the documents I have painstakingly compiled for you guys," Hunk says, not sounding genuinely hurt, but hamming it up in the way that he does, "You guys in particular. Y'know. The two people on the entire ship that might actually benefit from a little insight into Galra biology and the variances it has for certain hybrids and their mating habits."

He must catch the odd look on Keith's face, because he pauses, frowning slightly.

"This a tender subject?" Hunk asks, belated.

"....A little," Keith admits, painfully aware that it's the first thing he's said this entire time.

Hunk is quick to reassure him just like Lance was; "Dude, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's totally normal for Galra."

_ But not for humans, _ Keith thinks.

For a species that was attempting to dominate the known universe, Galra genes are surprisingly weak. Or at the very least, slow growing. Keith is well beyond the stage of human adolescence, which is when he thinks his body was subject to enough changes and confusion. He doesn't want to be going through another entire rush of hormones that is going to make him irritable and feel weird all the time. He doesn't want to be singled out like this, either, and alienated from the team when he finally feels confident and comfortable, when he is finally mellowing out of his teenage angst.

He doesn't want this to strain his relationship with Lance….

That's a lot to be feeling all at once.

It surges in him like a tidal wave, and Keith doesn't exactly know where to begin sorting it out. He glances down, eyes skimming along the floor.

"Look, let's eat breakfast first, before we get into this," Lance says, "I'm starving."

"Right, sure, man," Hunk says, "You sure that doesn't hurt? I can run and get something from the infirmary to bring down the swelling, at least."

"I've said I'm fine like fourteen times this morning and I haven't even been up that long, can everybody just chill about it? This is far from the most grizzly injury I've ever dealt with."

Pidge chooses that moment to lop into the kitchen, distracted enough by the laptop cradled in the crook of their arm that they bump into Keith's back. Keith is so tuned to Lance - the irritation in his voice, the stiffness in his shoulders as he attempts to shrug carelessly only to wind up suppressing a wince as the motion hurts more than anticipated - that he doesn't hear Pidge coming. The light impact startles him. He reaches back with one hand, catches Pidge in the chest, and  _ shoves. Hard. _

Pidge hits the floor with a grunt of surprise.

They spare their laptop from busting open on the floor, poised, precariously, on their fingertips above their head. Keith realizes what he's done a second after he does it. His heart is vibrating in his chest, adrenaline flushing through his body and making his hands shake.

"Pidge! Sorry - I - "

"I'm okay, but what the quiznak?" they snap, shifting up into a sitting position on their own when Keith only stands over them, refusing to lend them a hand. They're still balancing their precious cargo with an annoyed frown. "Who just shoves somebody down like that?"

"I'm sorry," Keith says again. He's crumbling. He can feel it. This is so stupid. "I didn't mean to."

"I said it's fine, Keith."

Pidge's frown is more concern than annoyance, now. They get slowly to their feet, shooting glances toward Lance and Hunk, then back at Keith.

"What's the matter with you?" Pidge asks.

Keith flinches.

It's the harsh wording. Pidge winces.

"I meant - "

"Hey," Lance says suddenly, softly. It grabs at everyone's attention, Keith in particular. He turns around to look at Lance, worrying his hands together. He wants to go over there and stand beside him - wants to… put his face in Lance's neck and breathe in his scent - which is such a weird compulsion - but he also wants to let the slightly hurt expression in Lance's blue eyes chase him out of the room, into a dark, dark hole. "I thought you said we were okay. Are you still upset?"

"It's fine," Keith says automatically.

"No," Lance says, frowning, "Keith. It's not fine if you're still upset, dude."

"Jesus, is that a bite mark?" Pidge asks, spotting Lance's neck.

"Pidge, now's really not the time for your sharp observational skills," Hunk says warningly.

"I'm not upset," Keith says.

"Keith,  _ all of this _ says you're upset," Lance says, frustrated again as he makes a motion all down his front. Keith's tense, bowed shoulders. His hands twined together in front of him intensely enough to white his knuckles. Lance points. "You just pushed Pidge down. It's  _ fine  _ if you're upset, but please be honest with me. I'm not upset. I don't want you to be, but it's okay if you are. Let's - let's eat something and then talk about it, okay? We'll figure it out together."

Keith hesitates. Lance's words are like a balm, as always.

He hadn't even thought to eat when he first woke up. He  _ is _ hungry. He had been so upset about hurting Lance, and worried about how Lance would react. And then Lance hadn't been to breakfast by the time he finished with his morning training, so he didn't eat with the others, either. He just doesn't know if he can stomach food right at this moment….

"Okay," he says quietly, without looking at anyone.

He hears Lance sigh.

"I'll... come back later," Pidge says, heading right back out the door with their laptop and concern in tow, "Hunk, I need you for something when you're done."

"Okay. I'll get back to you. Man, I'm popular today."

Hunk says it with a nervous grin that doesn't alleviate the tension as much as he wants it to.

\----

"Dude, would you relax?"

"Telling someone to relax when they're not relaxed is the opposite of helpful, Hunk," Keith mutters under his breath as Hunk wraps a leather gauge around his bicep and repositions the little stickers attached to wires on his bare chest. It's not his fault he's gripping the edge of the medbay table tight enough to bend it. Not his fault his voice is heavy and heated from his lungs. "I mutilated Lance."

He can call it what it is because Lance isn't here to argue with him.

Allura needed him on the bridge for something important that couldn't wait, after they had barely finished eating. Keith had been unable to express the gratitude he felt when Hunk had insisted that it was cool, that he and Keith could get Coran and head to the infirmary on their own and run a couple of scans on their own.

Keith is still feeling really on edge.

"Okay," Hunk says patiently, "That's a little extreme. It's more of a high grade love bite."

_ "You saw it, Hunk." _

"Yeah, I did. It's kinda hard to miss, Keith." Again, Keith expects revulsion. Anger, or something similar. Hunk is as airy and calm as he usually is when the stress in the room isn't of his own devising, and he goes about what he's doing without even glancing up. "And I know you've got like a million questions, but let's do one thing at a time, okay? We're wired in, Coran."

Coran pokes the monitor he's standing beside and the weird little graphs and units of measurement light up and start wiggling, Altean words spilling across the screen. They've already drawn some blood, and that's processing, now. Keith watches his own heart-rate spike in agitation across the bottom. Coran hums thoughtfully, curling the end of his mustache.

"There does seem to be a bit of an imbalance going on in there," Coran observes, "But that's not necessarily uncommon given this new development. Your just trying to sync up with your partner, only Lance doesn't have quite the same biology as you do. Perhaps it's creating some confusion and your body is overcompensating with a boost of pheromones."

Keith tries to control his frustration, "I don't know what that means."

"Well, I would have to see the mark to know for certain before I can elaborate," Coran says unhelpfully, and seemingly unbothered. He indicates one of the bars on the screen, though, that's sitting incredibly high. "But I can tell you that this little guy should be much lower than it is. That's your blood pressure. You're surprisingly tense for someone who should be in a relatively calm state post-coitus."

"I wonder why I might be tense," Keith says flatly, "I  _ bit Lance, _ Coran. Like,  _ really hard. _ That's not normal."

"It is perfectly normal for Galra adolescents to get too excitable and bite their partners prematurely," Coran says. That does an outstanding job of making Keith feel more like a specimen than a person, but he knows Coran doesn't mean it like that so he doesn't take it to heart. "Especially if they're in the early stages of one of their first mating cycles. Ah, I see now! And that's right where you appear to be, if I'm reading these right. Your body just hasn't found a comfortable rhythm yet so your hormones are all over the place. Your saliva should have become somewhat analgesic to compensate for the inflicted pain, though. I don't imagine Lance is hurting much, is he?"

"He says he's not…." Keith says, appropriately skeptical.

He doesn't think Lance would lie…. But he also knows Lance doesn't like to let others know when he's hurting. He hates that they're similar like that…

Coran's explanation raises more questions than it actually answers, as usual. Keith decides to wait until Lance is here to ask for any clarifications. They're just going to have to repeat it all, anyway. Keith sighs and lowers his gaze, plucking at one of the stickers on his chest.

"I don't know why this is happening now…." Keith mumbles, trying not to feel sorry for himself.

"It's normal," Hunk assures him again. Keith is getting a little tired of hearing that. It doesn't feel normal to him, so everyone saying that it's normal and that it's fine is not really helping. He bites his tongue, though; doesn't argue. "Full-blooded Galra do this sort of thing consensually, but with hybrids it's kinda more difficult to control the impulse. It's just your same old instincts, y'know - " He gives Keith that knowing smile, makes a motion with his hands. "Wanting to keep Lance safe, and calm, and happy because you care about him. That's all it is, just like manifested into- "

"Into biting him."

"Yeah. Yeah, it sounds bad cause humans, y'know, we don't  _ do _ that."  _ That's exactly my point!! _ Keith thinks, frustrated, as Hunk plows on, "But the bite is supposed to release all the same feel-good stuff as copulating does. So, I mean."

"Oh god," Keith groans, covering his heated face with both hands, "Please don't call it that…."

"Sorry. I just meant it's not a bad thing, Keith. It's supposed to be a good thing. It's basically how you seal the deal Galra-style. It's kinda like proposing."

Okay, so Lance is right even when he's being a total smartass…. Keith files that information away with some irritation. He's plucking at the wires again. Hunk moves his hand down without saying anything, and Keith curls his hands into loose fists, maintaining his even breathing.

"I guess this was a pretty big step to be going in blind for, huh," Hunk's guess is right on the money. He folds his arms, tilts his head, and gets his  _ I told you so _ or whatever it is out of his system, "I did send you a bunch of documents on all this stuff like, forever ago, man. I thought for sure you'd read it."

"I didn't think I would randomly start just -  _ turning _ Galra. If this was going to happen, why didn't it happen sooner!? I'm twenty-three years old! I shouldn't be going through weird changes like this!"

"The Galra do have a bit of a longer lifespan," Coran points out from where he's poking away at the monitor, "I would estimate you being firmly in the middle of the two adolescent stages - you've almost reached your physical maturity by human standards, and you're a bit of an early bloomer by Galran standards."

Keith groans again and hides his face.

"Sorry," Hunk says again, awkwardly patting Keith's shoulder, "We know you're a private person, dude. We're just trying to help you understand all this alien junk. I know it's a lot and it's confusing."

"I know, I appreciate it…"

He's still too embarrassed to look up just yet. He keeps his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees as he stares at the floor. This is completely stupid. He doesn't know why he feels so bad about it, but he's starting to regret it. The biting thing. Not the having sex with Lance thing. Except...maybe. A little. It's what led up to this, after all, right?

Mating is basically sex.

That's just a strange way of saying it.

Being with Lance normally makes him feel  _ better. _ He doesn't know why it's making him feel bad now, and he knows Lance had been picking up on his mood and feeling bad about it, too.

That makes him feel worse….

Finally, the door of the med bay slides open. Lance comes in with quick, long strides. He dipped back into their room to grab a loose jacket. He is still stubbornly wearing that tank top, even though Keith knows he thinks the Castle is drafty and cold, and the jacket is flapping open around him. Keith's eyes land on the bite mark right away, that spiky warmth tickling up his spine as he stares at it and breathes in slow and deep, unconsciously.

Lance's scent fills up the room, fills Keith's lungs like a heavy fog and spreads out through the rest of him. It's slightly sweeter than normal, way stronger. It has been all morning. Keith wasn't even aware of the change, or that he had been missing it, until it's the only thing he can focus on, and he completely loses the thread of what is going on around him. It seems to ease one tension inside of him and tighten another. He grips onto the table harder so he doesn't grab onto Lance.

This is more difficult to bear when Lance steps right up next to him, his scent rolling like a wave.

"So, what did I miss?" Lance asks.

Coran intercepts him, reaching out but not quite touching the bruise at the base of his neck. Keith is worried - for one wild millisecond - that he'll  _ care _ that Coran is so close to Lance, that he'll  _ care _ that Coran is almost touching his mark. The feeling is there and then it's gone. Coran's scent is dull, but friendly. It's not enough to block Lance's pleasing smell, or overpower any of Keith's senses. It isn't the least bit threatening in any way at all, just like Coran himself.

It helps that he doesn't actually touch the mark, only leans in closely to examine it.

"Ahh, I see what the problem might be," the advisor says, "It's not a full mark at all!"

"What d'you mean it's not a full mark?" Lance asks, indignant and momentarily forgetting himself, "He broke the skin, Coran! I mean -" He shoots a nervous, apologetic look at Keith, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. "Barely! But still!"

"Yes, I can see that," Coran says, "But he obviously pulled back at the last moment. It's quite a handsome bruise, but it's not nearly deep enough. You're supposed to hold it through the entirety of your orgasm - now. Alright." he huffs. He is unaffected by the discussion, says it just as blithely as he details the intimate, gruesome workings of various space creatures, and yet he finds room to be offended by the young, red faces that suddenly won't make any sort of eye contact with him. "I don't know how else you want me to say it. We're all adults here who have all experienced one a time or two, there's no need to be so shy."

Keith puts his head against his knees and wishes for a swift and painless death, or at the very least to be teleported out of this room. Lance is considerably less fazed. Keith doesn't see how straight he manages to get his face when he answers, though it must be cherry red.

"He did do that."

Death could not arrive sooner.

An asteroid. A sudden vortex in space. Anything.

"Well, I won't argue with you about that," Coran says sagely, "But I am saying a genuine mating bite should be much deeper than this one is. He clearly loosened his hold at the last moment. That's probably why you're both feeling so down about it, instead of excited and happy. Of course, he didn't know what he was doing at the time, so we can't really - "

"I'm sorry, I need you to back up a little, Coran," Lance admits.

"Oh, right, you weren't here for that part. You see, the purpose of the bite is to - "

"No," Lance says. Keith looks up; his tone is off. "I meant. Physically." Lance makes a pushing movement with his hands, his face still flushed. "Sorry. It's - it's bothering me that you're standing here."

He's standing in between them, closer to Lance than he is to Keith, who straightens his spine and frowns slightly at the new feeling that lightening bolts up into his rib cage. That slight sweetness in Lance's scent has curled into something sharper. Keith can't place what it is.

It gets his heart pounding.

Coran looks only momentarily surprised. He gives up the space with apologies and moves over to the monitor again. Lance rubs his arms and doesn't move any closer to Keith, but he seems a little more relaxed. Keith is hyper aware of every cold inch of that distance, unconsciously leaning into it.

Hunk catches Lance up on the few things they told Keith and starts asking the follow-up questions.

"What's your room look like right now?"

Keith shrugs. "It's fine."

"It's messy," Lance says with a slight frown.

Keith looks at him, matching. "What's messy about it?"

Lance lifts his eyes to the ceiling, spreads his hands; the whole attitude of  _ I wasn't going to say anything, but - _ "The laundry for some reason isn't making it's way into bin when it's dirty. Or into the closets and dressers anymore, unless it's my turn to do it. It just piles up on the floor or the bed."

He avoids blaming Keith directly. That only irritates Keith more.

He….  _ doesn't _ …. Put the laundry up.

They had to clear the bed last night before they could do anything else.

Hunk asks Lance, "Is it just your clothes? Or Keith's, too?"

"It's mostly mine. I go through the most clothes, so the laundry's almost always something like 60/40 in my favor, but we always take turns with it, anyway. Even when the clothes  _ do _ get put up," Lance adds, "There's always a couple of stray shirts or socks in the bed or something."

For some reason, Hunk is smiling.

"Dude," he says to Keith, "You're nesting. That's adorable."

Keith doesn't know why the statement is embarrassing, but he feels his face heat up. Lance just looks confused, rubs his arm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It just means he's hoarding your clothes in the bed. He wants it to smell like you."

"It already smells like me! It's my bed, too!"

"Does he do that all the time? Just not put the laundry up?"

Keith doesn't know why he sits here without commenting on his own behalf. He doesn't do that all the time. It just… happens every now and then. He's only done it like - 

"Well, no. I mean, not all the time," Lance says, "This is only like… He'll do fine with it for a while and then the chore just gets progressively less done until it just ends up piled on the bed. And then I complain about it, and then he starts putting them up again."

"I didn't know it annoyed you so much," Keith mutters.

"It doesn't," Lance says quickly.

"Now who's the one not being honest?"

"No, it really doesn't. I tell you when it starts to annoy me."

"You passive-aggressively start doing the laundry yourself until I take it away from you."

"....Okay. Fine. I should have actually said something about it bothering me. Look, what does this have to do with anything? We both have little things that we don't exactly do to the others' liking, or things that annoy each other. That happens. Keith's is the laundry thing. I collect empty containers in the bathroom because I'm convinced I can squeeze more stuff out of them even when they're bone dry, it's - "

"Again," Hunk cuts in, "This is actually a thing that Galra do. They nest. Y'know the circadian rhythm your body goes through every 24 hours? This is like that, but on a bigger scale. It usually lasts like four to six months. When his body has naturally depleted certain hormones he starts looking for external stimuli, which...." Hunk trails off, seeing the blank looks on their faces. "Look, okay, to paraphrase: when he starts piling your clothes in bed, he's probably been a little moodier than normal, right?"

"He goes from being bewildered by his own behavior to being super snappy about it," Lance admits, after thinking on it for a moment.

Keith bristles up right away. "I do not!"

Lance gestures at him, as if that proves his point entirely.

"It's probably other things, too," Hunk says. He ticks a couple off on his fingers. "He's eating and sleeping more. He probably smells a little different - I don't know if you'd notice that, but - "

Lance's face lights, though. "He does smell good."

"Uh, good how?"

"I don't know." Lance frowns, cheeks heating. "Just… good. Y'know."

"And then, last night, you guys had sex, right?"

"Right," Lance says.

Keith promptly buries his head against his knees again.

"And he bit you," Hunk says.

"Obviously, dude."

"Was anything different about it?"

"Kind of." Lance's voice is defensive again. It has Keith's skin prickling with something close to shame, has him lifting his head to look at Lance through the cascading dark of his bangs. He doesn't like the look on Lance's face…. "Jesus, Hunk, do you need the details?"

"No, I don't, I was just asking. If this is the first time he bit you like that, it makes sense that something might have been different from all the others times because he's probably been at this point in the cycle a lot of times since you guys have been. Y'know. The biting creates a pretty strong bond with your partner. The point I'm trying to get at is that it's a normal thing. You guys just didn't notice it was happening. And I mean, it's so subtle and really stretched out over such a long period of time, it would be kinda hard to notice if you didn't know what exact behaviors to look for."

Keith doesn't really know what he's expecting Lance's reaction to be. He looks… worried. He doesn't say anything for a couple of minutes. He lifts his hand over the mark, absently, without thinking, and quickly drops it, weaving his fingers together in front of him.

"Okay, so… what should we do?"

Coran is twirling his mustache again when he finally pipes up, "Well, it's up to you, really. We could pop you in a healing pod for about a varga or so and get rid of the mark."

Lance stiffens, frowning.

"And what?" he asks, his anger a sudden, overwhelming thing, "Pretend it didn't even happen? No thanks. I've had my fill of that, actually."

"Now," Coran says, eyeing him sternly, "That's not what I'm saying. That's your own stubborn tendencies running off at the mouth."

Lance looks down at this admonishment, one hand clasped around his elbow as he hugs himself. He keeps pulling the zipper on his jacket up and down, up and down, worrying the seam with his fingertips. 

Coran continues, "The pod will get rid of the partial mark, and the mess of additional hormones, and it'll give the two of you the chance to talk about it properly so you can make a fully informed decision in the future. The bond it forms isn't a permanent thing; you can renew the bite at any time, or let it fade. It usually only begins to scar after several times. It's just another form of intimacy among the Galra, especially ones who feel a substantial devotion to one partner."

Well... All of this definitely explains a lot about some of the things he's been feeling the past couple of hours… days….. Months….

_ Substantial devotion _ is too poetic for Keith's tastes, but it's also a total understatement. He loves Lance. He loves being with Lance. And he knows the feeling is mutual. He still feels like a monster for claiming Lance like that, without even asking what Lance wanted.

Maybe that's what's bothering him the most.

Maybe subconsciously he realized that, which is why he pulled back, even when he didn't understand what he was doing or feeling at the time.

Keith has been nothing but rough edges for most of his life - his  _ young _ life, his childhood, because the rest - all of this, his time in space, with Lance and his team - is slowly starting to outweigh the rest. All the soft parts of himself were stripped away early on by loss and loneliness, and he buried his tender heart beneath his anger so it would hurt a little less the next time someone left. It didn't do much good. And Lance didn't chip away at that exterior as much as he crashed through it, cascading like a waterfall right under Keith's defenses, bright and blinding.

Keith feels like the person he has wanted to be for a long time when he's with Lance.

"Are you guys feeling okay?" Hunk asks suddenly.

It draws Keith from his thoughts, but he doesn't quite know what to say just yet. He wants to talk to Lance alone. He knows they need to. That odd thing he's been picking up in Lance's scent is still sitting heavy on his tongue - Keith realizes, with sudden clarity, that Lance is anxious. He's been getting more and more anxious the longer they've been talking. Hunk's eyebrows are creased just slightly, and Lance tries to evade his question, tries to sound annoyed and instead has his voice wavering in just the wrong place to give him away, "Why do you ask, man?"

"Cause I'm gettin' a little muddy up here," Hunk says, tapping his own forehead, "And I know it's you guys." He takes a few moments to turn inward and assess. Keith doesn't know how he keeps forgetting that their mental bonds are so strong. Normally, they filter it out and keep to themselves. Hunk points at Lance, "You're nervous." And then at Keith, "And you know he's nervous so it's making you nervous. Which is making me pretty nervous. What's the matter? Do you not feel safe?"

The question is specific.

Enough that it catches Lance by surprise, because he can't cultivate an answer.

"I - " He breaks off, obviously about to lie. He's holding onto himself like he was when he was upset before, sitting on the bathroom counter. "I-I felt okay earlier. I felt  _ great _ earlier. I don't know what's happening now. I do feel… kind of nervous, I guess. I don't know."

Realization dawns across Hunk's face. He has always been the most grounded member of the team, and it is no shock that he is able to dig right into the heart of the problem and say it, gently, "I bet it's because you guys are bonded, and it's new, and instead of being somewhere you feel comfortable and safe like your room, where Keith's been nesting all this time, you're out here with all of us."

Coran looks stumped. "I certainly didn't think  _ Lance _ would be so affected."

"Our quintessence is aligned," Keith finds himself saying. He can always feel Lance better than he can any of the others, and Allura often comments on it.

"I suppose that could have something to do with it," Coran allows, but he's studying the monitor somewhat distractedly again, poking at a few things, "It's still quite unusual."

"Guess that's why I've been feeling super weepy all morning, huh," Lance laughs suddenly, but his voice is thick, lodged in his throat. His face is flushed and his eyes are red, darting aside. He's faintly irritated when he looks away from the others and asks, "Why am I always the one crying….?"

"Aw, c'mon, crying's not so bad," Hunk says, understanding better than most, "It gets all the stress out and you feel better afterwards."

Hunk automatically moves in for a hug. He only gets in a brief squeeze, both arms wrapping around Lance's shoulders, before Lance is pushing him back a couple of steps, his apology and discomfort clear without the need for words. His posture still small and guarded and very unlike him. Hunk doesn't take it personally. But it's not like Lance, of all people, to refuse a hug, especially when he needs one.

"What's wrong, bud?" Hunk asks, a little worriedly.

"I don't know," Lance says, "I feel… weird. Kind of tingly all over like I'm getting sick or something."

That's exactly what Keith has been feeling all morning - that humming under his skin. That weak feeling making his insides wobble. That restlessness sifting through his veins that only eased up briefly when he…. Keith is peeling the stickers and wires off of his chest without realizing what he's doing until his shaking hand accidentally tears one of them.

Coran is quick to wave his hands away.

"Easy, now," the advisor says. He gets the job done much quicker, with less casualties. "You're lucky I've got my scans all finished, young man!"

"Sorry, Coran."

He's tearing at the velcro of the band around his arm, regardless, and leaving it behind on the table as he slips to his feet.

"Lance."

Keith opens his arms in a silent invitation as he steps forward, closing the space with a hesitant step. He's worried that Lance will push him away, too. Lance doesn't even hesitate.

He ducks into Keith's arms with a grateful sigh, his fingers finding the belt loops of Keith's pants and holding onto them. Lance presses his forehead against Keith's shoulder, exposing his neck. It's unconscious, subtle. Submissive. It sends a thrill up Keith's stomach, has it swooping back down to settle low in his gut. Keith's mouth finds the bruise on his neck right away as he curls his arms protectively around Lance's broad shoulders. He's very aware of the others in the room, so he only presses his lips to the bite mark, breathing Lance's scent and letting it out.

It works better than he thought it would.

Lance relaxes against him with a quick shudder.

He groans.

"Can today get anymore embarrassing…?"

"It's still early," Keith points out with a small laugh, "Sorry I did this."

"Shut up," Lance huffs, words warm over his skin.

Hunk pipes up behind them, "If you guys need a chill out day, you know that's totally fine, right? You're workaholics, anyway."

"No. We're supposed to be heading to Helion, remember?" Keith says, though he makes no move to pry himself away from Lance now that he has him so close again, "The colony is launching today. We can't stay in bed twined up like ermines."

"Yeah, that's true," Hunk reluctantly agrees.

It's a gesture of solidarity, proof of the peace Helion and its entire star system have established by opening up a space for Galrans and other refugees displaced by the war and the reclaiming of planets. It will look bad if all of the Paladins of Voltron aren't there to show their support.

"We're not expected to arrive for several more vargas," Coran says. He knows the schedule by heart, of course. "There's plenty of time for you to retire and work some things out among yourselves. I'd like to examine that bite before you go, Lance, before you go. Perhaps there's something we can do to relieve some of it's effects that won't require a stay in the pod."

So Lance sheds his jacket and tank top, and lets Coran draw some blood from his arm and then plug him into everything. Keith doesn't know what is more mortifying - having their sex life verbally spread out on the table, or having all the little bruises and marks he left on Lance exposed to the light of day. Lance doesn't seem to mind. He pokes absently at a red bruise high on his hip bone for a lack of anything better to do with his calm but restless hands.

Keith's face is burning as he stares at them, counts them, remembers each one.

It's not like he doesn't have his share of marks.

Lance digs his blunt fingernails into Keith's back all the time, leaves long red lines arcing from his spine, along the cage of his ribs, and crescent moons shaped on his arms. He leaves hickies on his thighs and chest. They switch things up a lot, so Keithcarries bruises sometimes, too. He doesn't have any of those this morning. As requested, he had kept Lance's hands pinned, kept him pressed into the bedsheets so he could only move when and where Keith wanted him to.

That's the thing that was different.

Keith had all the control, and it riled up something protective and possessive inside of him, something his body's weird cycle just let loose out of nowhere.

Keith isn't going to deny that it had been exciting. He definitely enjoyed it as much as Lance did, once he was confident that Lance was okay with it. It was easy enough to tell by the sounds he made, pliant and eager under Keith's hands, open with his encouragement and praise. When Keith had finally let go of him afterward, Lance had cradled Keith's head against his neck and breathed all his  _ I love yous _ into Keith's hair while Keith lapped at the wound that he left without meaning to.

The post-orgasm part is a little hazy.

He remembers soothing his hands over Lance's thighs and wanting to stay pressed tight, as closely as possible, for as long as Lance would let him. He remembers the quake of Lance's body molded against his, slowly relaxing. Lance's deep breathing, his murmured words. Lance's hands petting through his hair and his long, bronze legs draped around Keith's waist. The gentle rocking of his foot. The copper tang of Lance's blood on his tongue, the sweet and heady scent between them.

Keith had fallen right to sleep, right after he heard Lance's soft breathing even out.

He hadn't realized what he'd done to Lance's neck until his alarm woke him up, and all those good, warm feelings were flushed away with dread.

It was like a fever breaking.

Keith finds himself staring at the bruise on Lance's neck again, that apprehension returning. 

Lance catches him looking and when Keith glances up to meet his eyes, that deep cerulean blue, Lance flashes him a small smile, lifts an eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" he asks.

Keith breathes out a small laugh, feeling foolish. He bows and drops his head on Lance's shoulder, keeps his arms crossed, his hands to himself.

"Sorry for being dumb about this."

This isn't like all their petty arguments about laundry, and empty bottles cluttering the shower. This is something that means a little more.

It's the last time Keith is going to apologize for it.

Lance's bright chuckle is a welcome sound in his ear. His hand threads into Keith's hair, fingers dragging over the curve of his scalp and pressing him closer.

"It's all good. I get why you were upset about it." He does deliver a small blow, a series of playful swats to the back of Keith's head. "What did I say about mixed signals, though! Stop lying to me. Don't say we're good when you're not feeling good."

"I won't." He'll try, at least. "Stop being passive-aggressive about the laundry. Apparently, I can't help it."

"Wow, that is  _ not _ an excuse, Kogane!"

"You guys are a trip, you know that," Hunk comments. He sighs, but he's smiling. He must sense the peace creeping through their bond. "If you're good now, I'm gonna go see what Pidge wanted. And I'm sending you those documents again, and I expect you to actually read them this time! I'll quiz you both if I have to. I mean it."

"Nooo."

"God, we'll read them, okay? No quizzes! Please! Haven't I suffered enough today?"

\----

Since Lance was adamant about not wanting to go in a healing pod  _ "for something so small. It's not like it's really hurting or anything," _ Coran gives them an ointment to rub on the bruise to help with the (minor) pain and heal a bit faster. Lance relents, mostly because Keith seems to be genuinely relaxed about it, now. It had been one thing when it was just the two of them, alone in their room - Lance had suspected that might change when he was confronted with the others, passively or not. Keith is skittish like that sometimes, ready to dart at the slightest sign of dissent.

Lance is just glad he's not weighing himself down with that anymore.

"I still want to cuddle, by the way," Lance says as they're finally leaving the med bay, holding hands. It feels good. Keith's wide, calloused fingers wrapped around his. Keith's warmth radiating at his side. "Coran practically recommended it to alleviate some of the stress, and I can try this ointment out afterward. Do you wanna sneak back to our room?"

"Yeah. If you want," Keith says, smiling a little sheepishly.

Lance's grin is wolfish in response.

"You wanna get frisky with me?"

He wiggles his shoulders a little as he says it. It's more silly than inviting.

Keith snorts, barely masking his amusement.

"Haven't you had enough of me?"

"Never," it's a laugh, an honest answer. Lance turns Keith's question back on him, "I saw you smoldering at me a few minutes ago before you clammed up. Don't think I don't know what that look means."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm irresistible, Keith, I don't know why you're trying to deny it."

Keith's hand leaves his abruptly. Lance frowns, at a loss, and then Keith's hand is on his shoulder - turning him, pressing him back a couple of steps. Lance bumps into the wall and Keith's hand resting lightly on his chest pins him there. A warm flush runs through Lance's chest, heating his skin, leaving him breathless.

He grins.

"What, babe?"

Something is on the tip of Keith's tongue. There's a storm brewing behind those dark violet eyes as they study Lance's face, Keith's head tilted just so, close enough that each of his breaths ghosts across Lance's neck and causes him to suppress a shudder. Whatever it is, he decides not to say it. Instead, Keith closes the small distance and drops a kiss right under his jaw.

It's chaste, just a brush of his lips.

Lance slides his hand up Keith's arms, appreciating how firm his biceps are as Keith grips his waist again and shuffles that much closer, flush against him.

He still feels that budding tension, like Keith has something he wants to say.

"You gonna talk to me or just kiss me?" Lance teases, even when no other kisses appear to be coming.

Keith leans against him, rubs the side of his face against Lance's neck, and holds onto him like his whole life depends on it. The gesture is familiar, something Keith does often, though now it has a different meaning. He's trying to get as much of Lance's scent on himself as he can, wants to be comforted by it, and vise versa. Lance closes his eyes and lets him. He lets his hands wander up and down Keith's arms in soothing strokes, let's them spread to Keith's big shoulders and close around them, holding Keith loosely in his arms.

After a couple of minutes, Keith hums, and shrugs, as if this answer is sufficient. In a way, it is. Lance understands that he has a hard time figuring out what to say, and appreciates the effort.

They can always talk about it later.

"No rush, man," Lance says, nuzzling Keith back.

"This wouldn't be so bad," Keith says, kind of abruptly, like he thinks he might lose the nerve to say it if he hesitates, "If I had someone to tell me about this kind of stuff in advance…"

Lance doesn't understand what he means at first - starts to laugh it off,  _ no one can predict the future, Keith _ \- but then it clicks. Keith's low, somber voice. The resignation in his tone that is barely more than a sigh against Lance's neck. The way he holds on a little too tight.

He means a parent.

Someone who knows what he's going through because they've been there before, who can walk him through it without making him feel weird about it. Lance grew up with that emotional safety net. He forgets that Keith didn't. His father is gone, and his mother is a mystery. If she's out there, if she knows about him - how could she not  _ know _ about him when his face and his name are all over the cosmos - she's never come forward.

Lance can't imagine what that must feel like.

He holds Keith tighter, trying to cuddle him as close as possible. He rocks them on their feet. Keith laughs, hands at his waist.

"We'll figure this out," Lance assures him, pressing a kiss into Keith's hair at his temple.

"I know," Keith says softly, smiling.

Belatedly, they notice footsteps approaching, and Lance snaps his head up.

"Oh  _ honestly," _ Allura gasps. She stops where she is the moment she's cleared the corner at the far end of the hallway and spots them, pressed together, out in the open for all to see. Her hands pop onto her hips in disapproval. "I'm going to get the broom after you two. Have you no sense of propriety?"

"We're not doing anything inappropriate!"

Keith actually pipes up, annoyed by the disturbance, "I can't hug my boyfriend in peace?"

"Not in a corridor that sees quite as much traffic as this one," Allura says, unbothered by the attitude, "There are more private areas you can retreat to. You know we're not the only ones in the Castle anymore, and neither of you like it when people talk - "

"I know, I know, we're sorry." Lance waves his hands in a pacifying gesture. He hasn't pushed Keith away, and Keith has only straightened up, still leaning against him as he looks at Allura. "We're going right now. Aren't we, Keith? We're gonna go cuddle."

"Don't forget we do have things to attend to today. Is Coran still in the infirmary?" Allura asks, striding past.

"Yeah, he's looking over some stuff for us."

"That's right, I meant to congratulate you earlier," Allura says, obviously talking about the mark as if it just came to mind. Keith buries his face in Lance's shoulder to muffle a groan as she flashes them a smile, radiant as sunshine. "I was so preoccupied with the discrepancies in those reports from Merlo Kin Serata that I forgot to say so. I'm happy for you two."

"Are we the only ones who didn't know what doing this means?" Keith asks under his breath, comically offended at his lack of knowledge concerning his own body and tendencies.

"Thank you, Allura," Lance says over him.

"You can thank me by going to your room before someone else finds you climbing all over one another. We do have a reputation to uphold."

The princess is gone in another moment, her soft footfalls fading around the corner.

Keith has never really been into overly affectionate gestures in public. He doesn't mind holding hands, or leaning against one another, but it really depends on who else is in the room. With Hunk and the others, he doesn't care if Lance sits on his lap during meetings, or puts an arm around him - but he's understandably not so comfortable around strangers.

He doesn't like the attention, the prying eyes and the gossip that inevitably follows. Lance is fine with keeping the PDA to a minimum. He gets annoyed by all that stuff, too, but it doesn't bother him as much as it does Keith, and he wants Keith to be comfortable.

But Keith is nothing if not willfully defiant at times.

He stoops a bit to grab the back of Lance's thighs and hoist him up so he can carry him back to their room. Lance shoves at his wrists, laughing in surprise, pushing his feet back to the floor.

"No. Thanks. I can walk, I do have  _ some  _ dignity."

"You sure about that?" Keith asks him, smirking, grip still dangerously low, body still warm and close enough that Lance huffs out a breath, his heart going wild.

"You are so going to get it when we get back to our room."

"Can't wait."

\----

The bruise fades, but the weak puncture marks of Keith's teeth linger just a bit longer. Eventually - after weeks, and months - the span of Lance's neck is as flawless as before, his shoulder unmarred; smooth, dark, tender skin that Keith drags his fingertips down in thought.

"You can," Lance tells him, again, "If you want."

It's quiet, confident.

Like his movements as he straddles Keith's waist.

Like his hands threading into Keith's hair, brushing it back from his face.

Keith considers Lance in their new proximity, the blue of his eyes catching the accent lights in the alcove of their bed as Keith leans back against the headboard. He drops his gaze to Lance's neck, the pads of his middle finger rubbing over the spot where his mark used to be. Where he  _ wants _ it to be. It's become an erogenous spot - by design, obviously. All Keith has to do is touch it, even now, even just like this, and Lance is shifting in his lap, his breath deepening and sighing out.

Lance doesn't close the small distance between them. Keith does, leaning up and capturing Lance's mouth against his, his hand sliding around to cup the back of Lance's neck. It's a little desperate, a little heavier than he meant it to be. He's had months to warm to the idea of biting Lance. Months to figure out and come to terms with his body's stupid new cycle and how it's going to affect his daily life, and Lance's.

Nothing is really changing.

He's been this way for a while, after all.

It's just like growing. There have been so many subtle changes that make him who he is that Keith wonders how he even managed to seem like himself before.

It doesn't feel… wrong.

It's just weird to  _ notice. _

It's weird to be made aware of it.

The way colors are slightly different and certain smells are stronger. His hands as they drop to Lance's narrow waist makes him notice the difference in their bodies, too, where in their teens they had been pretty similar in size. They still fit together perfectly. They're still head-to-head in height. Keith is the bigger of the two, broader with round shoulders and wide hands, dense muscle packed into every fiber. Lance is slimmer only in comparison, angles sharper, his limbs longer, but there is just as much strength in them as they close around Keith and press against him.

Lance's tongue swipes across Keith's bottom lip and Keith opens up for him. He plays over Keith's sharp canines, touching the points that are still new enough to cut Keith's own mouth when he isn't careful. Thanks to the exam Coran gave him, he knows he has brand new Galra teeth - fangs. It's how he broke the skin so easily the first time he bit Lance. He didn't even notice because his new teeth had forced the old ones out of his gums and sprung in at opportunistic moments. When he got struck in the face during a battle, or training, and had blood in his mouth, anyway. Or when he was eating and thought he just bit into something ominous and swallowed on instinct.

Lance had made fun of him ( _ "How do you not notice growing in entirely new teeth?" _ ), and Keith had only been able to shrug. He had noticed some pain in his jaw beforehand, but he had thought he was just grinding his teeth in his sleep again from stress. When it stopped hurting, he stopped thinking about it.

There were other things on his mind other than the bewildering way his teeth kept pricking his mouth.

And, just like with everything else, Lance likes to prove he doesn't mind the changes. That he's not afraid, that he can keep up with Keith in every aspect. He's also trying to wash away any foolish anxiety Keith is still holding onto. And it works. Lance's hand fists into Keith's hair, nails gently raking at his scalp, and Keith moans into his mouth, grazing Lance's lip with his teeth and relishing in the breathless gasp it pulls from his partner, the shudder that ripples though Lance's body.

It sparks something warm in Keith's belly, the thin fabric of Lance's shirt sliding up as Keith's hands advance along the soft plane of his sides. He snags on a small scar below Lance's ribs, lets his fingers trail across it.

He kisses Lance's cheek, gets a laugh huffed into his ear in response.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Lance," Keith murmurs, finally, in answer. His mouth trails along Lance's jaw. Lance loosens his grip on Keith's hair, turns to petting rather than pulling. "I know it doesn't  _ hurt _ hurt. But I still…. This is supposed to be…"

"This is supposed to be whatever we want it to be, Keith," Lance reminds him, smirking but soft, "Besides, I bet it feels better than you're thinking it's gonna. Probably doesn't even hurt." He moves one of his hands from Keith's shoulder, drops it back to curl around Keith's, where his hand has paused around Lance's ribs. He tips his head to nudge Keith's forehead so Keith will look at him. "It's just another way of being close to you, Keith. You know I'm all about that. You do all this other stuff for me. Lemme do something for you."

That's all the reassurance Keith needs.

Lance's careful voice. Lance's hand closed over his. Lance's blue eyes looking into his, bright even in the dark and full of want and trust.

Keith kisses him again, just as hungry as before, letting all his emotions pour into it. His relief, his confused excitement - his love - even if he decides he doesn't want to do it this time, he knows that he  _ can. _ Keith lets his fangs snag at Lance's lips and tongue, let's Lance roam his mouth and kiss him however he likes as he rolls their hips together gently. After a few minutes, they shift and start pulling off their clothes in earnest. It's uncoordinated, given their position. They have to break away to discard their shirts and come rushing back. Lance makes a valiant attempt to get Keith out of his jogging pants without climbing off of his lap, but eventually they have to call it.

Lance stands on the bed, stooping in the bunk, and slips out of his own pants and boxers. Keith does the same, tosses them carelessly. There are clothes lost in the bedsheets, anyway. Lance's worn shirts. Extra pillows, a second blanket that they just get tangled in and throw off in the middle of the night.

Keith has just embraced the nesting thing.

Lance teases him about it, but he loves the attention. He grins as he stows his own clothes underneath the pillows where his scent will be strongest. Keith rolls his eyes. He moves to open the drawer in the bedside table, and Lance falls on top of him the second he comes back, laughing, holding Keith's face and dropping kisses across his cheeks. Keith smiles, blushing, "Knock it off." He tries to push Lance with one hand and move him onto his back on the bed; Lance manhandles him, instead, so that Keith is sitting against the headboard again and then crawls into his lap again.

"Like this," Lance murmurs, kissing Keith's cheek, the corner of his mouth; his hands curling around Keith's and guiding them to his waist, "That okay?"

"Yeah," Keith says, settling into a more comfortable position, "Whatever you want, Lance."

He curls his hands around Lance's thighs, sliding them higher. He digs the tips of his fingers in enough to have Lance arching into his touch, enough to have Lance sighing and kissing him again, his arms circling Keith's shoulders. Keith takes his time getting Lance ready. Lance calls it teasing, but Keith just really likes this part. He likes watching Lance's face - the heat creeping down his chest, the little pinch between his eyebrows, his pupils swallowing the lusty blue of his eyes.

He likes the noises that fall past Lance's parted lips, the breathy whines, the soft moans and tender laughs. He loves Lance's restless hands caressing his arms, fingers gripping into his hair. He loves that, even like this, even withering and gasping under Keith's careful attention, Lance still smirks at him. He still tugs Keith's head back by his hair to deepen the kiss, to ravage Keith's neck with his tongue and his teeth.

He gets impatient, starts canting his hips back.

Keith holds him exactly where he wants him with one hand gripping Lance's thigh. It's not the strength he uses as much as it's the silent command.

Lance huffs, "Fuck, babe."

"That's the idea."

He crooks his fingers just then, so Lance's throaty laugh gets cut off with a sharp cry and followed by a low moan. Keith coaxes him up onto his knees and bends to close his mouth around one of Lance's nipples, still pumping his fingers at a leisurely pace, still curling into that spot. Lance's legs start to shake. The sound he makes, nails raking Keith's scalp, shoots right into the pit of Keith's stomach and rolls there like a ball of lightning, pulsing out to catch at Keith's breath.

He dips his head lower, lifts Lance a little higher; traces up Lance's stomach with the flat of his tongue.

_ "Kei- aah -  _ **_Keith!"_ **

Keith hums in answer while he sucks a dark mark into Lance's bronze skin, looking up at Lance from beneath his bangs and eyelashes, along the length of his body. Lance's chest is heaving, his face gorgeously flushed, mouth open, eyes half-mast.

Maybe he is a tease.

Just a little.

The little whine Lance makes - disappointed, but eager - when Keith pulls his hand away has Keith chuckling. He drops apologies all along Lance's throat in the form of open-mouthed kisses. He holds onto Lance's thighs and helps him ease himself down, but Lance knows exactly what he wants, and how he wants it, and he doesn't have that same hesitation that Keith does.

That first little rush always leaves Keith feeling breathless, buzzing from his head to his toes. They press together, panting and quivering, trying to adjust to the sensation. Being like this, being  _ so close. _ It's got static sweeping up Keith's gut, tingling at the ends of his fingers. He soothes his hands up Lance's waist, down his tense thighs; shifts beneath him, pressing up. Lance gasps against his mouth, clinging to his shoulders before he rocks his hips, experimental and slow. It draws a groan out of them both, as if that shuddering spark that flushes through them is brand new every time.

Lance picks up the rhythm that he wants, and Keith will admit to a little bit of laziness on his part.

He lets Lance do most of the work. He sits back and just enjoys the show for a few moments. Lets his hands and eyes roam while Lance bounces on his lap and arches his back and rolls his hips, and gets it exactly where he wants it. Every moan, every punched out sigh, every movement. It's just for Keith, and no one else. No one else in the universe gets to see Lance like this - his intense blue eyes, the curl of his brown hair at his temples, the sheen of sweat on his bronze skin, the way his stomach tightens with the exertion of his movements and his muscles jump with anticipation under Keith's hands.

How soft and needy he gets when he's close.

Keith gets a little overwhelmed by it all.

He loves Lance so much. He never thought he'd be into anything like this, but if it's Lance? He'd do anything. Keith holds Lance against him as he starts thrusting up, matching Lance's rhythm. He kisses him hard and swallows the short moans that pour from Lance's lips, feels the sound reverberating deep within his chest.

One hand on Lance's hips to steady their movements, teeth grazing his neck, searching for that familiar place. Keith worries it with his teeth - a tease, a promise. Lance's fingers tighten in his hair, tug with some urgency as he bares his throat, as he rocks his body, as he gasps little  _ a-ahs _ in Keith's ear; deep, desperate noises that he can't hold back. Lance moans his name, a mantra -  _ Keith, Keith, Keith _ \- and that's what does it in the end. It burns though Keith like fire, pure heat, solid energy. Keith sinks his teeth in with a muffled moan, his hips stuttering, pulling Lance down against him.

Lance's blood floods his mouth, the copper sweat of his skin, the taste of his life. It fills all of Keith's senses. It fills his every waking moment. He bears down, harder, hands tightening into bruises on Lance's hips, and Lance shudders against him, nails biting into Keith's arms. Warmth bursts in between them, spreading as they tip over together, chasing the vivid sensation that runs wild and white hot through every vein.

Keith keeps moving even after. Slow undulations of his hips, mimicking the firm roll of his tongue as he laps at his mark, the caress of his hands along Lance's thighs. Lance clings to his shoulders, squirming and breathing into his hair, fingers curling weakly in the damp strands. His limbs are heavy, spent and trembling, but he lets Keith keep him on that building peak, let's Keith push him over it again with each small, deep thrust, each brush of his tongue, each searing touch.

Keith shifts Lance's hips back, changes the angle of his thrusts just so, and Lance is convulsing against him a second time, limbs locking, muscles trembling long and hard as he cries out into Keith's hair. His voice ripples through Keith like a pool of clear water - bigger at first then growing smaller, smoothing out, until Lance is only able to gasp his name softly, panting in his ear.

His cheeks are wet with tears, his throat salty. His heartbeat pulses against Keith's tongue.

_ "I lo - I love you. I love you so much, Keith." _

Keith almost says it then. He almost says it back - it's right there on the tip of his tongue, pressed to Lance's beating heart, fast and certain - but he can't find his voice in the moment, and then the moment is gone, snatched away by the heady instinct saturating his brain that says to comfort Lance, to keep him close. Mouth pressed against his mark, Keith hums low in his throat. He moves his hands slowly up from Lance's quivering legs to his waist. He rubs Lance's sides and circles his arms around his back to hold him tightly, palms splayed into his warm skin. Lance relaxes at once into the steady embrace. He rests his forehead on Keith's shoulder, lets out a shaky moan.

His thighs squeeze Keith's hips involuntarily, another shudder jolting through him.

Keith licks away the blood welling up from the deep grooves cut into Lance's neck by his teeth. He rubs Lance's back with one broad hand. He tries not to move around too much, otherwise, and tries to get his own hard breathing under control. Lance is twitching and rocking during the come down, stifling his small noises against Keith's skin, and Keith is glad for the headboard supporting their weight. He's feeling satisfied and hazy, safe and secure, and wanting more than anything for Lance to feel the same.

His eyes drift closed as he laps at Lance's neck. He does notice the slight glow from his eyes just before, dusting Lance's bronze skin in gold.

Finally, Lance stills, groaning something in Spanish.

The articulation snaps Keith out of his somewhat foggy state of mind. He feels that flicker in his eyes, like a film pulling back when he blinks. The glow is gone, but the scent of Lance's blood and arousal is heavy in between them and mixed so sweetly with his own. Keith eases back enough to stare at the bite mark he left this time. Every red detail is sharp and clear, a thrill that races up his stomach.

"Lance," he murmurs, shocked by how wrecked his voice is. He doesn't even remember making a sound, but his throat is sore. His ears are ringing, heart still pounding in tandem with Lance's, chest to chest. Lance hums at him, draped over his shoulder. Keith turns his head to nudge the side of Lance's face with his nose. His hand trails up Lance's spine, steady, nervous, as he asks, "You okay? I - "

"I am way better than okay," Lance says slowly, dazed and laughing, "What kind of dumb question is that, Keith? I'm going to be seeing stars for a week."

Every word is saturated with that blissed-out heaviness. Keith feels it, too, laughing softly. He doesn't want to move, but he knows if they stay like this for too long that Lance won't be happy about it in the morning. He slides his hands back to Lance's waist and Lance takes the hint, reluctantly, even though he's the one who will complain about being sticky and gross later. Lance sits back and stretches right in Keith's lap, working some energy into his honeyed muscles, letting any residual pleasure roll through his body with a languid hum.

He catches Keith's little groan with his mouth, catches Keith's hands with his own. Lance teases him by wiggling like that; Keith teases him back by curling his knees a little and squeezing Lance against him. They're both too sensitive and wrung out to do more than shudder against each other and kiss for a while. They don't have the energy to get heated again.

"You wanna get up?" Keith asks after a few more minutes. His sense of urgency is utterly dissolved by kissing Lance and getting to hold him and feel him like this.

"I can't… feel my legs right now," Lance admits with a shy smile against his lips, "Or my spine. I may never walk again. You'll have to carry me everywhere."

Keith chuckles and lifts him off with ease, kisses him again once he lays Lance down on the bed. Lance tries to curl around him right away, but Keith pulls back, "Just a sec." He knows if he lays down now he won't get back up. But it's harder to leave Lance on the bed than he thought it would be. Especially when Lance reaches for him in surprise and says, "Don't," softly, holding onto his hands.

Keith has to make himself pull away and run to the bathroom. He cleans himself off and returns quickly with a warm wash rag for Lance. A cold flush has spread across his skin, anxiety twisting low in his chest. Lance is sitting up, pulling nervously at the bedsheets, looking for his clothes. The tension in his movements goes away the second Keith is on him again, pressing him down into the bed with the weight of his body, murmuring apologies. Touching again, skin to sweaty skin, comforts them both. Keith closes his mouth around his mark, soothes it with his tongue while he cleans the mess off Lance's belly and legs.

Lance's wandering, shaking, hands have found someone's pants by then.

Getting them on is a slow ordeal, but eventually they settle down, mostly clothed, into the pillows. Lance pulls the blanket over them and throws both his legs over Keith's waist as Keith curls around him and holds him close. Keith buries his face in Lance's neck where he can kiss and lick at the bite mark whenever it starts to become painful. He is barely awake at this point, comfortable and warm with Lance snuggling against him, their scents mingling into one, hearts beating in unison.

Lance sighs and murmurs into Keith's hair, twirling the ends around his fingers. The gentle rocking of his foot eventually lulls them both to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank y'all for being so supportive and kind with your comments and for sticking with me for this long! This is the apex of the story! The middle ground where things begin to shift! And also the last time anything gets even vaguely spicy until part 9. *eye emojis*
> 
> I hope you're all as excited for what's to come as I am! Please let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!! ♡


	2. Anafw: part 5

I'm still fuzzy on how the subscriptions/timelines for AO3 works so this is just a bump that I'm gonna delete later! This fic has been heavily edited and has been added as the 6th part of my And Never Again Feel Weak series, so click back to read if you enjoyed the first half of it (or if you're new to the show) ♡

I really hope this isn't too confusing for anyone, this was the best way I could think of to post this and keep everything all together in the specific way I wanted it to look...!


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